Why?
by Pekenota14
Summary: Booth's POV after Brennan's death.


He wakes up and gets off bed when the annoying alarm tells him it's time to go to work. He turns it off with a tight fist that rocks the bedside table. He rises with the sheets curled on him, which unweaving them fast and furiously.

He enters on the bathroom leaving the door slam behind him and turn on the shower. The drops of cold water seem to him bullets hitting him in the body. If the water could wash away the pain, he would be there his whole life under it. He lets the water hit him in the face and continually asks "Why?"

Wrapped in a towel, he opens the door to the wardrobe of push. He picks up the underwear and, among all the shirts, he gets one whose color predominates over the wardrobe: white. He throws the jacket to the bed and wears the black pants. He's looking for a belt, so that takes that which buckle says "Cocky", anchored he throws it again in the drawer, picking up another without special buckle.

The colored socks also stay in the drawer and he presses the strings to the shiny shoes, pulled gloss lately. He sees himself in the mirror feeling loose and gets his hands on the neck, feeling he has no tie. After squeezing the maximum that could, had to stop or be strangled himself. We would never leave home without putting the holster stuck in the belt and dress up the coat.

From the drawer of the bedside table he takes his gun and badge. He looks at his face sternly and feels that the No 22 705 does not suit him. The badge was already in his pocket, but the gun, the gun gives him rabies. The gun he had used the night before and was not effective.

**This time, and hence forth, stop of accusing the brain tumor, of what he had become powerless to do. **

He takes the keys and goes to the FBI building, J. Edgar Hoover. He returns to his office at the FBI, where he sits, waiting for a case. After reading a letter that was on the desk, the pain haunts him even more.

When he enters the office, the presence of Assistant Director Andrew Hacker is conspicuous as well as the large cluster of cases that leaves the desk.

"Choose a new partner, we give you that chance." "I do not need a partner. I'm better off alone." Booth muttered his first words of the day."If you don't choose, the FBI appoints someone to be your partner." Booth remedies to the situation. It's better being him choosing than let the FBI to choose. They always choose just the freshmen to follow the most experienced.

**He no longer is the connection between the FBI and the Jeffersonian. The FBI no longer needs this connection.** He continues to look astonished to the letter. Hacker continues to look at him; Booth reads the letter over and over and over. The same letters are in his eyes, he remains discredited in reality. Before leaving the room, Hacker leaves him a word embarrassed and prolonged than in anything helps him: "Sorry."  
The hours pass slowly. He needs to unwind the mind, but that cubicle leaves him even more stifled in him. In his mind he stills building the night before. He reviews all the possibilities, but none can succeed. He reviews all the time, which he did right, what went wrong.  
He goes out for a coffee. In all places where he passes, they all recognize him and tell him the word he that is more sick of hearing "Sorry." Among many pats on the back and the words that sank him even more, the day is over. 

Booth did not appear at the bar for more than a week, where they were once more a case resolved. There were already Cam, Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, and all the internals of Brennan: Arastoo, Nigel-Murray, Wendell, Daisy, Clark and Fisher. They all have a drink in front, but are not as cheerful as usual.

Had yet another person, that one very important to Brennan and for all, but he stills cannot cheer them. Indeed, Zack Addy looks much or even more depressed than all the others. As they gather at the usual table, Booth sits in his usual place too: over the counter.

"Today you come alone?" Asks the employee while he is putting forward him a beer. "Hard days?" Returns the man. **"I lost my partner, she died for my mistake."** He says as he drinks a sip of beer. "I gave her the gun in hands, and the suspect appeared on her back." He drinks beer again, and looks for the bottle feeling that that flavor does not fit in his mood. "Bring me some brandy." He commands. 

**As much as rational she was, and as much as it seemed harder to understand her, they all miss her.**


End file.
